Bus Stop
by SillyEms
Summary: Suddenly, he lowered his newspaper and looked directly at me. The eyes that met mine were dark and unreadable in the poor light. It was a handsome, but rugged face with a sensuous mouth.


**This is a short story, my first smut, and a birthday dedication for my darling, dear Pez! Whose birthday is tomorrow! I hope you enjoy this little fickle, even though it is quite mild. Love you loads.**

My bus pulled away from the bus stop just as I rounded the corner. "Damn it," I muttered to myself. Well, at least there was a bench, and the weather was surprisingly mild for a North Carolina night in September. A man was sitting at the far end, his face hidden behind a Wall Street Journal. I sat at the opposite end, and crossed my legs. People and cars passed occasionally. I checked the time and sighed; my bus wasn't due for another twenty minutes. I wasn't in a particular hurry, but I was already bored.

The newspaper rustled from the other end of the bench. I looked casually at what I could see of its reader. The top of his head was just visible, the hair a dark brown, perhaps even black. His suit was definitely Brooks Brothers: a glen plaid suit; charcoal gray with a subtle deep red pencil stripe, dark grey socks and cordovan wing tip shoes. I looked away, checking the time once more. At least another fifteen minutes. My eyes were drawn again to the stranger on the bench. I wished he would put down his paper so I could see his face. "Don't be ridiculous," I told myself. "Why should I care what his face looks like?" Legs crossed, his thighs looked muscular. He shifted his paper again, but didn't put it down. He seemed totally oblivious of my presence, which for some unaccountable reason bothered me. I wondered if he had seen me when I walked up and sat down on the bench. And if he had, did he find me attractive? I took out my compact and looked critically at the reflection. I saw naturally arched eyebrows under a deep brown hair, brown eyes flecked with green, a short nose and a full lipped mouth. Then, feeling slightly self-conscious, I hastily put the compact back in my purse. I coughed slowly and the paper rustled, but did not lower. I wasn't used to being ignored.

I looked at the hands holding the newspaper. They were well cared for, rather large and with a light tan. Large hands, large cock? Was that it? Or was it large feet, large cock? Was I thinking about cocks because I hadn't had any for weeks? I checked the time, ten more minutes. I wondered how old the mystery man was. He had no gray in his hair. I shifted restlessly, crossing my legs and unobtrusively inching my skirt well above my knees. Suddenly, he lowered his newspaper and looked directly at me. The eyes that met mine were dark and unreadable in the poor light. It was a handsome, but rugged face with a sensuous mouth. For a melting moment I imagined his mouth on mine, our tongues touching. He couldn't have been more than twenty five. I held my breath, then he turned the page of the paper and his face disappeared behind it again. My breathing resumed, slightly faster than before. How rude he was, I thought. He didn't even smile. But then again, neither had I. For a moment I'd been riveted by his eyes. Penetrating. Why use that word to describe his look? As I said it to myself, I felt warmth between my crossed legs. I was definitely aroused. What was it about this silent, unfriendly man that turned me on? I wondered how he was able to read in the gloom. Perhaps he had not been reading at all. Maybe he used his paper to avoid talking to me. Or maybe he was thinking about me, wondering what I looked like under my green silk dress. My cunt twitched at that thought. I allowed myself to imagine him aroused, his cock beautifully large and hard. The thought made me squirm on the bench and uncross my legs.

There were fewer people walking past now, and practically no cars in the street. I decided to give in to one of my favourite pleasures; secretly masturbating in a public place. I shifted my large purse, putting it flat against my thighs. I pressed my hand cautiously between my legs. I barely suppressed a sigh. My eyes never left the newspaper as I increased the pressure of my fingers. When the paper rustled I jerked my hand back, my face hot. I had an insane desire to laugh at my reckless behaviour. Once more all was silent at the other end of the bench. I squeezed my thighs together. And almost audible "oh!" escaped my lips. I inched the full skirt of my dress up, keeping my hand under my purse. I slid a finger under the band of my underwear, imagining the stranger's cock rubbing over my slippery cunt, caressing my swollen clitoris, finding its way into my pink pussy. I clamped my lips tightly to stifle a groan. My entire hand was now in my panties, two fingers deep inside my dripping cunt. I stretched my legs out and leaned back on the bench. Two men were walking down the block on the other side of the street. I pictured their cocks, one long, the other short and thick. But it was still the man behind the papers that I wanted to see, feel, suck and fuck, his cock ramming in, pulling out, in, out. My fingers quickened their thrusting. Just one more minute and I would come. As my orgasm crept up my shaking legs I chanted silently "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I closed my eyes and breathed heavily. When I opened up my eyes I saw the bus half a block away from me. I'd have to wait another twenty minutes now. "Oh well," I whispered to myself, noticing the stranger glancing at me from over the paper. "It was worth it."


End file.
